


The Atlas of Lost Dreams

by LadyAngelsea



Category: NOS4A2 (TV 2019)
Genre: 1938 Rolls Royce Wraith, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Candy Canes, Christmasland, Christmasland (NOS4A2), Cover Art, Devotion, F/M, Falling In Love, Following the TV show more than the book, Heroine, Horror, Joe Hill - Freeform, Knife(s) & Inscape(s), Love, Manx's Wraith, NOS4A2, Obsession, Paranormal, Parnassus - Freeform, Passion, Psychic Abilities, Psychic vampire, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Strong Creatives, Strong Female Characters, The Night Road, Thriller, True Love, Undying Love, Vampires, courting, inscapes, zachary quinto - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25843684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAngelsea/pseuds/LadyAngelsea
Summary: Jane has always been a little different. After losing her parents and getting kicked out of her aunt's home, she's completely alone and struggling to make ends meet.Charlie Manx knows what it's like to be different. He believes he saves the children he kidnaps by giving them a second chance in a world of his creation called "Christmasland."Charlie senses Jane's power and thinks she has the potential to be great. How far will his obsession take him?A NOS4A2/Jane Eyre (loosely based/inspired) fanfic.
Relationships: Charlie Manx/Original Character(s), Charlie Manx/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12





	1. The Atlas of Lost Dreams

Chapter 1 - The Atlas of Lost Dreams

There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. Heavy rain plunked onto the streets, gurgling into nearby drains. The heat had taken up with the downpour. Earthy steam rose from the pavement like spirits reaching out for one last mercy.

Dense forest preserves flanked both sides of the road. Sometimes a deer would sprint across, throwing out its chest. A 1938 Rolls-Royce Wraith chugged along the road. Its license plate read NOS4A2. Phantom-like sounds echoed from the engine, dissolving into the woody silence. It was not fast by any means and couldn’t go over 80 miles per hour. But it was beautiful, sleek, black, and rare. They had produced a modest quantity. Getting your hands on one was a miracle.

The car pulled over, coming to a stop. The driver closed his eyes. There was something unique about the car. But there was also something strange about the owner.

Outward, Charlie Manx seemed like a polite man. He wore a long navy coat with brass buttons and a red cravat tied around his neck. He looked like a chauffeur at first glance until the realization hit. No one dressed like this anymore. A relic from a bygone era. He had a vague, somewhat sinister air about him and his eyes were dark empty pools. Yet, a sense of loneliness emanated from him. People seldom saw him in public places. A gas station here and there.

He drifted off to sleep.

###

The landlord, out of the goodness of his heart, gave Jane three months rent-free. In three months, if she didn’t find a job, she would have to leave or pay rent. With one month left, she hadn’t found a position anywhere. Left with no other option, she packed her suitcase ahead of time. One last Hail Mary left, she’d  _ advertise _ .

According to her cousins, she was a poor orphan sponging off the charity of their mother. She had nothing but a book and a scant amount of clothing to her name when her aunt kicked her out of the house. The book hadn’t belonged to her. It was part of her aunt’s library. But she was the only person in the house that looked at the book or read for pleasure. They wouldn’t realize the book had vanished.

Jane sat cross-legged on the floor of her tiny apartment. She thumbed through the pages of the book, imagining, wishing to be elsewhere. This book brought comfort during hard times. It was a simple travel atlas of places she’d never go like the Sahara Desert. She put reading glasses on and gazed at the picture.

Dunes stretched toward the horizon. Brilliant red clouds hovered above, striking against the evening sky. Nothing but sand for miles under the setting sun. She had never felt so alone, yet so at peace.

The sound of static filled her mind. She stood in the Sahara Desert. Hot sand surrounded her feet. She found relief once her feet sank into the cold sand hiding underneath. Static fizzled in her ears and with a soft pop, she was back in the room. The sand coated her feet, grains shedding on the hardwood floor.

_ Oh my god, that was real. That was real. _

Blood rushed to her brain, pounding in her ears. Her chest tightened and her hands trembled. The room spun and her vision dimmed. Sweat trickled down her face and neck. She stood up and her entire body shuddered, wavering from side to side. Her heart sped up, working overtime.

_ Well, this is it. I must be dying. _

She took in deep, gasping breaths. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. All it did was make it harder for her to breathe. Her eyes narrowed and black spots clouded her vision until she slumped to the ground and passed out.

###

Charlie glanced around at the secluded road, trying to calculate how long he’d been there. The static. He heard the static again. A smirk played at the corners of his lips. He adjusted the dial on his car radio and the frequency intensified.

“Interesting,” he whispered.

After a minute of static, he opened the glove compartment and pulled out a map. It resembled the vintage point of interest kind one would find at a gas station during a road trip. But this one was special. On the front, in bold type, read the title  _ The United Inscapes of America _ .

Instead of well-known landmarks like Mount Rushmore, this showed places called  _ inscapes _ . Charlie had experience with these places. He often traveled to his inscape called Christmasland, where unhappiness was against the law. Yet, he never stayed for long.

He drew in a shaky breath, thrilled by finding another strong creative. An individual with the ability to break open the veil between reality and imagination. With a knife, like Charlie’s wraith, strong creatives could bring their inscapes into creation. The map lit up and a new location appeared.

“The Atlas of Lost Dreams,” he whispered.

###

The apartment complex was quiet. Jane couldn’t hear much going on outside. The usual drunks causing a ruckus were not out and about. She could enjoy her balcony for once. The night sky looked darker than usual, but she shrugged it off. The noises of the night were like the distant and faint music of her childhood before the tragedy had changed everything.

The autumn breeze exhilarated her. It was her favorite season. She didn’t associate fall with dying, but with rebirth. There was a sense of calm, realizing that some things could be reborn.

The peaceful sound of chirping crickets surrounded her. She smiled to herself, watching the leaves fall from the tree limbs. But the moment was fleeting once she heard the static again. It was stronger this time like she was standing right next to malfunctioning speakers.

She peeled her eyes away from the sky and looked down at the parking lot below. There stood a tall man leaning against an old car. He was handsome in the traditional sense as if antiquity dripped from his veins.

Jane felt rooted to her cement balcony. Cool breeze swept across the parking lot when their eyes met. A gasp whispered from her lips as she placed a hand to her chest. She pulled her cardigan tight around her shoulders. This time the breeze felt invasive, like invisible hands gliding over her. 

A sudden hope swelled in her chest, a hope that was so strong it seemed as if her heart would burst. A handsome man thought she was interesting enough to look at, and that flattered her. But she was also smart enough to know this was strange. There was something off about the man.

###

Charlie watched the girl. She couldn’t have been over twenty years old. She was plainer than most of the women he’d courted. He’d have to make do. Still, it wasn’t like she was unpleasant to look at and she was a strong creative female. That alone made her a decent candidate.

She angled her body away from him, breaking eye contact. Charlie watched as she walked into her home, shutting the door behind her. He knew he’d have to try harder. This one seemed different from the others.

###

Jane closed the curtain. But she could still feel his eyes on her. She peeked from behind the drapery and saw him still staring up at the balcony. Was he ever going to leave? She cursed under her breath for making eye contact. She let go of the curtain and backed away from the window.

Her skin felt hot and in the pit of her stomach, she knew something was wrong. It was bad enough she lived alone, but now every thought she had ended with her death. She paced the room, eyes darting at the drawn curtain. There was no one to protect her this time.

“I’ll check in thirty-minute intervals,” she whispered to herself. “Or should I check in ten-minute intervals? Or now, should I check now?”

The frantic thoughts and feelings in her head made her feel sick. Jane had never felt more alone in her life. She stopped mid-pace to stare at the sliding glass door, chewing on a nail. Curiosity got the better of her and she drew the curtain back.

The man and the car had left the parking lot. Jane took the deep breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her body relaxed, losing its rigidness. She shook her head, a slow smile creeping upon her lips. Why had she let it get to her?

Jane busied herself with her nightly routine. She spread the one blanket she owned on the hard floor and lay down. But all she could do was stare at the ceiling. Whether she liked it, the man stayed on her mind. The man's presence lingered in the room as if he were just a few feet away. A small part of her found relief that he was no longer there. But, another feeling took hold and she did not understand why. And as she closed her eyes, her lower lip trembled.


	2. Greetings from Christmasland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane receives a mysterious card.

Chapter 2 - Greetings from Christmasland

There was nothing but darkness. Whenever Jane closed her eyes, she heard a buzzing sound. It was the static again. Her eyes snapped open for the hundredth time that night. A mournful groan escaped from her lips. She rubbed her face with her hands. Every time she fell asleep, she saw flashes of his face. And that old car, shining its lights, searching for something unattainable. Charlie Manx. The name rang in her mind like the rushing sound of an engine.

"Who the hell is Charlie Manx?" Jane whispered.

She sat up from the hardwood floor. It wasn't too bad to sleep there. She slept on top of a plush comforter. Still, she admitted she would have jumped at the opportunity to sleep on a bed for at least one night.

Something was stirring within her. She stood up and walked to her fridge. It was empty except for one red apple and a pitcher of water. The apple needed to last the entire week. Sighing, Jane reached for the fruit and took one little bite. She put it back in the fridge and took a swig from the pitcher. Jane knew what would happen if she didn't eat, but she wasn't about to finish the apple.

A rustling sound at the front door piqued her interest. Her heart thumped as she listened, unsure of what was happening. Then the sound stopped. Jane pulled the door open and saw a red and white striped envelope flutter to the floor.

"A little early for Christmas, isn't it?" Jane muttered, "Halloween hasn't even happened yet."

She frowned as she picked the envelope from the ground. Along the front, in neat cursive, read Miss Jane. There was a red wax seal on the enclosure that looked like a fiend with fangs.

"What is this?" Jane mumbled, confused.

She cracked open the seal, revealing a Christmas card. The card was white with a green and red holly border. Sprawled across the front read Greetings from Christmasland in typical holiday script. Jane wondered if Christmasland was a company she had applied to during one of her job searches. No, she would have remembered a name so whimsical. It wasn't a name one would forget.

"DEAR MISS JANE," the card read, "meet me at the front of your apartment building tonight at eight o'clock. There is much to discuss. 

I will be waiting.

C.M."

Jane felt a growing unease as she read the note. Her stomach flip-flopped and, confused, she shut the door. C.M. Charlie Manx? What could this man want from her? She leaned against the door, thinking. Jane stared down at the card in her hand. Eight o'clock? Who wrote the time in longhand nowadays?

"What time is it?" Jane asked aloud, checking her phone. 9 AM, her phone screen blazed.

Eleven hours until the mysterious meeting. Jane dreamed of all the things she'd do for eleven hours if she had the money. She'd buy a coffee with heaps of whipped cream and a huge buttery blueberry muffin. She had read in a book that the human body could survive without food for around three weeks but could only live without water for three days. At least the water was free at her apartment complex. One less thing to worry about.

"Do I want to know what he wants from me? Should I go?"

Her eyes fell to the screen again. 9:02 AM. This day would be a long one. She did not understand why she felt calm about meeting a total stranger. Jane was so used to things going south. She hadn't even thought of panicking until now. She had eleven hours to fret about this Charlie Manx fellow.

"God," Jane said, "am I thinking about meeting this man?"

Warmth radiated through her body. Someone cared enough to pay attention and it made her feel important. But he knew her name and that was strange. They had never spoken. How could he have known?

There was another matter to think over. Jane had nothing in the way of clothes or makeup. She had the basics. Soap, toothpaste, shampoo, deodorant. All she owned was one tube of complimentary lipstick. She told the lady at the makeup store it was her birthday. It wasn't a color she felt comfortable wearing. Red. The only nice top she had was a black sweater. Charlie Manx would take one look at her and run for the hills.

###

Hours rolled by with sloth-like speed. Attempting to look good required more means than Jane owned. She stood in front of the mirror wearing her black sweater, too loose jeans, and boots. The jeans used to fit when she had food. All she could do was shrug at her reflection. She swiped the red lipstick onto her lips.

She checked her phone again. 7:45 PM. The clock still worked without service. Her aunt had cut her off from everything. Phone service, a college education, and even family. Jane had never expected her aunt to provide anything and had offered to pay for her costs by getting a job. Her aunt refused and said it was her obligation to take care of Jane. But one day, they told her to leave. They blamed her and said she was not contributing to the household. She was poor and they didn't like that. The last thing her aunt told her was that nothing would save her now and that she would die like her worthless parents. The next day Jane left the house.

She grabbed her purse, stuffing her book and reading glasses inside of it. Intuition told her she needed to bring those items along.

7:55. Jane took a deep breath. It would take three minutes to walk through the hallway to the other side by the elevator. Another two minutes to ride the slowest elevator in the universe down to the lobby.

Once she was in the lobby, she saw him. Her heart hammered against her ribcage. Mr. Manx was more handsome up close. His slicked-back dark hair shone in the moonlight. The aquiline nose he sported complimented his striking eyebrows. Handsome in an old-fashioned way, his profile showed a quiet authority.

What was she doing? She didn't know the man. Jane turned around to leave but felt a hand on her shoulder. Her breath caught in her chest and she turned around to look at Charlie Manx.

"Oh," Jane said, startled, "Hello."

"I sensed you the minute you left your apartment."

"Sensed me?" Jane asked.

Charlie turned and walked away, as if to say, "If you want to know more, follow me." Jane walked after him. He was waiting for her by the car, holding the passenger door open like a proper gentleman. The apprehension in Jane's face was clear. Amused, he watched as she backed away a couple of steps.

"I'm not getting in your car," she said.

Charlie looked at her and let the door shut. He knew this wouldn't be easy. Jane seemed intelligent, which he found intriguing. Now that he saw her up close, he found her pretty in an understated way. He noticed her lips first. They seemed plump and youthful. She had painted them red.

"You needn't worry," he said, "I will not harm you. I want to talk to you."

"That's what all men say," said Jane.

"What all men say," Charlie asked, "would you know about that?"

"Well, no." Jane admitted, "But you could be a blood baron for all I know or you could try to sell me to the highest bidder. And if I get into your car, I could be nailing my coffin shut."

He chuckled, "A blood baron? You have quite the imagination."

"I can imagine anything I like," said Jane, "especially since you want me to take a ride in your car to God knows where."

Jane's eyes went to his hands. His nails were long, pointy, ghoul-like, and unkempt. Unattractive, a stark contrast from his face. Had he never heard of a nail clipper? In silence, they stared at one another. She turned to leave but Charlie called out to her.

"I felt your power yesterday," he said. "You went to a world of your creation."

"How do you know this?" Jane approached Charlie. "Did you send me there?"

"No," said Charlie, "you sent yourself there."

"What?" Jane asked, confused. "How? I-"

He opened the door to the wraith, waiting. "Come with me and I'll show you."

Jane hesitated, her forehead wrinkling. Thirst for knowledge outweighed the desire to flee. She stepped closer to Charlie Manx and peered into his eyes, challenging him.

"You promise me," Jane said, "that you'll be a complete gentleman and not do anything bad."

Charlie's face wrinkled with concentration. "I do," he peered at her and said, "but it's hard for me to keep a promise."

"Tough kumquats," said Jane, "because you'll have to keep this promise or I'm not getting into your car."

"I promise, but do you trust me?"

"Not at all," said Jane, "but, I want to know what's wrong with me and that's clouding my judgment."

Jane got into the passenger side and winced as Charlie shut the car door. There was still time to back out. She could open the door and leave. But, she stayed put and watched as he climbed into the driver's side.

"It looks like it's my day for making bad choices," she thought to herself as he started the engine.


	3. The Night Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie gets to know Jane on the road.

Chapter 3 - The Night Road

There was no going back now. Inching towards the passenger door, she kept her grip tight on the door handle. She rolled her shoulders, attempting to placate herself. But her breathing sounded shallow and shaky, no matter how much she tried to calm down. Charlie noticed her unease.

"I am a man of my word," he said. "No harm will come to you."

"You'll forgive me when I say I don't get that impression."

Charlie flashed a penetrating look at her and then fixed his eyes back on the road. Within fifteen minutes of knowing her, he'd had his trust and honor challenged. He would not fail her. He owed her that much. But, God, was she infuriating. She continued to look at him with a damned expression he couldn't stand.

"If you have any objections, I'd rather you came out and said them," he quipped.

"I thought I was," Jane said with a demure smile.

He glanced sidelong at her and she laughed. Her laughter was full of life like drinking a warm mug of hot cocoa. Charlie had heard nothing so genuine in a long time. A small smile appeared on his lips. He couldn't help it.

"Where are you taking me?" She asked, changing the subject.

"The Night Road," he said.

"That sounds ominous."

"Yes, it is charming, isn't it?"

"I can't tell if you're being serious or not," said Jane.

"Perhaps, a bit of both," answered Charlie.

So far, he'd kept his promise. Charlie had lived for so long keeping desires dormant. But Jane stirred something within him. A fire in his chest intensified when she looked at him or parted those pretty lips. But he'd keep his word. He didn't want to scare her away. They'd spoken for the first time tonight, and he wanted to get to know her better. Besides, Charlie wanted to see what his attraction meant. And if he could draw her into his world, he wanted to explore it. He was used to being in control of his narrative.

Jane frowned, "You're not going to kill me, are you?"

"No." Charlie looked shocked. "Where would you get that idea? I told you no harm would come to you, and I meant every word."

"Oh," Jane breathed, "I guess that's comforting."

She started to relax, and looked out the window, watching the scenery. Ember-orange treetops scattered the horizon like an omen of ill-portent. Autumn brought Jane peace but now it felt like a cloak of fire surrounded her with no escape. Jane's lips moved in silent prayer.

"What's on this Night Road?"

"A bar named Parnassus," Manx said. "It's a hangout of sorts for strong creatives."

"What's a strong creative?"

"You, me, people who travel the night road," Charlie Manx explained. "Strong creatives are people who are able to split the fabric between reality and imagination with the help of a knife. A knife being an object of importance to you, the wielder."

"That would explain how I ended up in the Sahara Desert and then back in my apartment in the blink of an eye."

The road darkened to an unnatural shade of black. The one light source came from Manx's wraith. Its headlights lit a few feet in front of them, but the rest was darkness. Dread filled Jane's mind and without thinking, she reached out for Charlie's arm.

"Oh, sorry," she gasped.

Charlie didn't say a word, and in that instant she didn't want to talk. Jane moved her hand from his arm and turning her face toward the window, she hid behind her long hair. He had not felt the touch of a woman in a very long time. Call it old-fashioned but, he liked it when she had reached out for him as if she needed protection. From now on, he would do his best to take care of her.

"Don't worry," he said. "You're safe with me."

"I'm fine, thanks," she replied, her voice husky with fear.

"Forgive me, but it seemed The Night Road frightened you a mere second ago."

"You were mistaken," she said, keeping her face hidden behind her hair.

Charlie's eyes narrowed. He didn't believe her. But there was only so much he could do right now. It was too soon to help her or offer comfort. Jane flinched away from him and he felt a terrible stab of disappointment.

"I don't want you to get the wrong impression of me." She said, "Fear doesn't mean I'm a damsel that needs saving. It's a human reaction. I can be a powerful woman and fear the dark."

"A woman who's afraid of the dark?"

"I may look like a flower, but I can be a polar bear when I want to be."

"You have a way with words, Miss Jane."

"Are you mocking me, Mister Manx?" Jane smirked.

"Not at all," Charlie said. "I want to make sure you're not a temptress."

"A temptress?" Jane burst out laughing. "No. Far from it. I have no intention of tempting you." Then her eyes widened, "Oh, I mean, not to say you're not, um, tempting. I don't know. You're handsome, I guess. But, um, no. I mean, I'm not interested. Um, yeah, I'll stop talking now."

"You've wounded my pride," said Charlie, "with your backhanded compliments."

"I'm not the type who will allow a man to put his hands on me. Not without love at least, and not before marriage."

Charlie took this in without a word. Jane had tied a string around his heart and every time she spoke, it felt as if the string tightened. For a few minutes, they fell into a comfortable silence until Jane spoke.

"I suppose I'm not delightful company, am I?" Jane said.

"I'm enjoying our conversation. It's been a long time since I've spoken to an equal."

"You mean you haven't spoken to anyone at all?"

Charlie chose his next words with care. He did not want to frighten the poor girl. In due time, he'd tell her everything. He was hoping against hope that she'd fall in love with him. To hope was to expect, and he didn't want to expect anything but disappointment. Disappointment kept him from getting hurt.

"My job requires me to travel. I have to be careful with my job and thus I do not have time for attachments."

"But you must have seen many things on your travels," Jane said. "You're so lucky that you get to see the world."

Her cheeks glowed with the fleeting innocence soon destroyed by the dark forces of the world. He looked at her in the darkness. A smile flickered across her face.

"I shouldn't say anything around you." Jane mused, "I bet you'd use my fears against me."

"Nothing could be further from the truth," Charlie said.

"I'm not interested in your games, Mr. Manx."

"I am not playing games, I am simply being forthright," he said.

She didn't know what to expect from him. It was difficult to put her trust in a stranger. To Charlie, Jane was a simple business transaction. Not a woman with actual feelings. She might as well have been talking to the air. Jane eluded Charlie like a mystery wrapped in a riddle. As much as he tried, he couldn't read her. He had to rely on his instincts.

"Tell me your story," said Charlie.

Jane looked at Charlie. He made a question sound like an order. Her aunt had been the same way, an order here and there, but no genuine affection. She wanted to break his game by answering him, but a voice inside told her not to.

"Is that a question or a command?"

"Maybe both," Charlie replied.

Jane fell silent. How was she supposed to answer his question and still have her dignity? She cocked her head to the side and peered at him.

"Now," said Charlie, "tell me your story."

"Aren't you going to say please?"

"You're a woman. Women don't ask for things."

Jane shook her head and crossed her arms. Who did he think she was? Another woman stupid enough to get inside his car? Moving as far away from Manx as she could, she placed a hand on the door handle.

"Let me out," she said, teeth clenched.

"Alone on the night road?" Charlie raised an eyebrow.

She gave him a smug look. "I can take care of myself."

"It seems I've upset you," he said.

"Women don't ask for things?" Jane fumed, "Am I supposed to sit here and let you say that to me? You thought I'd sit pretty and take it like a brainless puppet?" She said, "I'll get out of this car and walk home."

"You don't know where home is from here," he said. "And, I won't let you leave. You do not know what lurks along The Night Road."

"I'll take care of myself," said Jane.

"You'll regret it once you step onto The Night Road."

Charlie was not a man daunted by common sense. Determined to prove her point, Jane decided that leaving the car would let him win. It was useless to argue with Charlie.

"Fine," Jane sighed, "but that doesn't mean I forgive you. I don't want to be out there in the dark alone. I'd rather be here with you. Better the devil you know, right?"

"I didn't mean to be rude, but you're going too far," said Charlie. "I merely wanted to know more about you. I find you," his eyes wandered towards her lips, "intriguing."

Startled by his remark, Jane blushed. Hyper-aware of every fiber in her body, she wrapped her sweater around her body like armor.

"My story," she said in a soft voice. "I must go to the beginning. I was born twenty years ago. My parents died when I was an infant. They died in a car accident. Social services sent me to live with my uncle and his family. Everything was great until my uncle died of cancer. His dying wish was, in his absence, I still receive care from my aunt. My aunt and three cousins called me a charity case, and for that, I should have been grateful. They kicked me out of the house and I've been on my own ever since."

"If only I'd found you sooner," he said.

Sympathy laced every word. His voice took on a gentler tone, like sweet, poisoned honey. Jane glanced at him and looked away, the sad smile upon his lips too much for her to handle. She cursed under her breath when the sting of tears hit the back of her eyes.

"It's okay," she shrugged. "I'm doing fine. It could have been worse."

The words on the tip of her tongue were betrayed by a single tear that escaped, rolling down her cheek. Her chin bent down, chest caving, as she curled her hands around her torso.

"It could have been worse," she said again.

Jane took a deep breath and let out a weak chuckle. Her eyes widened with a mixture of fear, nerves, and anticipation. She bit her lip to keep from crying. Her shoulders quaked as she tried hard to stifle her sobs. But, it was no use.

"I'm afraid," she admitted in a hoarse voice. "I've been lying to myself. Th-that I'm fine. I lied that things could have been worse. Things are bad. I've only got one apple in the fridge and I have to make it last the entire week. I-I sleep on a hardwood floor. I've got nothing." She covered her face with her hands. "I can't believe I'm telling you this."

Jane didn't see the evil grin on Charlie's face. She was perfect. Jane had nothing to lose. No ties to bind her to this world. She was a strong creative. She was attractive in her own way. And the best thing, she was pure. Charlie's smile vanished when Jane uncovered her eyes. He replaced the grin with a look of compassion.

The car stopped in front of a building that looked like it had seen better days. The brick facade was dirty, caked in layers of grime. Red spots peppered the brick, which Jane hoped was juice, but she knew better. Shattered and boarded-up windows added an abandoned, forlorn look to the building. It smelled of urine and alcohol.

"We're here," said Charlie. "We're at Parnassus."


	4. Parnassus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane and Charlie go to Parnassus. Jane is introduced to the world of strong creatives and learns about her powers. Charlie has a talk with Abe.

Chapter 4 - Parnassus

“We’re here,” said Charlie Manx. “We’re at Parnassus.”

Through the grimy, broken windows, she saw the interior of the bar. She spotted dark shadows moving about inside. Jane felt as though something was watching her. The higher windows, she assumed, were apartments. She saw a pair of glowing eyes looking at her and her breath caught in her chest. Fear caused her to look away, but when she looked up at the window again, the eyes were no longer there. A faint, metallic odor wafted through the air. She heard static ringing loud and clear, and it sounded like it was calling her name. She didn't want to go in there, but she knew she had to. 

"Does anyone live up there?"

"Nothing worth mentioning," said Manx.

"So there is something up there?"

Charlie did not answer, which didn't make her feel any better. He got out of the car and opened the passenger side door for Jane. She sat there for a moment, staring up at the window. Charlie leaned down, peering at her in curiosity.

"You look like a trapped animal," he said.

Jane glowered at him. "I bet you're a winner with the ladies."

Charlie said nothing. He straightened his posture and waited like a proper chauffeur, holding the door open. Either years of driving stuffy old men had trained him, or he didn't want to engage in any banter with Jane. He had a job to do. That's why he did this. It was his mission, and old habits die hard.

"Are you coming out?"

"I can open my door, you know."

"I know," said Charlie.

"Then why open my door?"

"Because it's respectful," said Charlie. "I'm not trying to denounce your capabilities. I'm trying to honor them."

Though old-fashioned, Jane realized he made a good point. Today’s society was at the point where a simple, respectful gesture had become rude. Still, she didn’t want him to open her door all the time.

"Oh," Jane said, "when you say it that way. Um. Thanks."

"There's nothing quite as uplifting as an old-fashioned good deed."

"Yeah," said Jane, "the way you say that makes me feel like someone's going to die."

When Jane got out of the car, the engine turned off on its own and the door shut as if possessed. Charlie stepped toward Jane, looking down at her with a smile of satisfaction. 

"Is it safe to go inside? I saw a pair of glowing eyes," said Jane. The thought of the eyes made her shiver. "It's watching us."

"Nothing will happen to you. You're with me."

You’re with me. Never had Jane heard such an innocent phrase sound so dire. Charlie could say anything and make it sound like impending death. The logical part of her mind screamed at her to run. But the desire to find out more about these strong creatives outweighed everything.

"You’re with me? Is that supposed to be comforting??"

"Yes," he said. "You'll see when we walk in."

For a moment she wavered. Why here of all places? The building was in desperate need of a power wash. Even a cleaning couldn’t shake the anxiety Parnassus gave her.

"Shall we?" Charlie gave her a look of expectancy.

"Yes," said Jane with reluctance.

They walked side by side. Before they could reach the entrance, thunder clapped and heavy rain came down. Jane put her arm up to shield the rain, but to no avail. They walked through the parking lot, past a few other cars, and stopped in front of the entrance. By the time she reached the front door, the rain had drenched her hair.

"We shouldn’t go in," she said.

"Nonsense," said Charlie. "You're not going to let a pair of glowing eyes frighten you away, are you? You're better than that."

"Said no one ever," Jane muttered.

Lightning flashed, and thunder roared. The entryway looked as though it didn’t belong to the building. An afterthought that someone had nailed to the front with a blazing white neon sign. Parnassus, the sign beamed. It was dark in the entrance. The windows were so dirty they were almost invisible, blending into the dark wood.

"Why are you bringing me here, anyway?" Jane whispered.

"You have a lot to learn," said Charlie. "and now is the best time to introduce you to our world and our kind."

"But, a bar? Is this your idea of a date?"

"Do you want it to be a date?"

"Sounds like you do," Jane scoffed.

As they walked in lightning flashed and thunder boomed. Jane could hear country music playing. A song she hadn't heard in a long time. As soon as they entered the room, the music changed to a Christmas melody.

The decor did not make Parnassus any less frightening. Red walls closed in on her and the atmosphere was thick and stifling. The patrons had never heard of nonsmoking sections. Thick clouds of cigarette smoke hovered over everything. Jane coughed and wondered if breathing was a terrible idea. The dim lights made her eyes tired. 

Jane felt eyes on her. Some looked on in pity. Some in fear. All in curiosity. The denizens made the bar feel more like a horror movie set in a circus. One watched her with red snake eyes. His grin almost a leer as he tossed a pair of dice in his hands.

"Hey, pretty girl," he smiled, showing off his razor-sharp fangs. "Fancy a throw?"

Jane stared at him. Her eyes fixated on his teeth and scaly skin. Heartbeat racing and words stuck in the middle of her throat, she looked at Charlie.

"She is not interested," Charlie said, his voice firm. With that, Charlie led Jane away from the reptilian man and toward the bartender.

"Who is he?" she whispered, eyes wide.

"That would be Old Snake."

"Fitting name," Jane quipped.

"He won't bother you. Now that he knows you're not interested in his game."

Charlie knew that he was no saint, but wasn't sure how many secrets he could reveal before scaring her off. His feelings were getting stronger, and he didn't know how she would react if she knew him better.

"One peppermint twist," said Charlie to the bartender. "And anything the lady desires. Put it on my tab."

"Oh, um, you don't need to get me anything," she said, "it's okay."

"I insist," said Manx.

"It's fine. I don't like being in debt to anyone."

"A drink is hardly a debt," said Charlie.

"I get the impression it's what I don't pay back that's the problem," said Jane. "At least when it comes to you."

"It's more of a pleasure than a debt."

A drink sounded like heaven to her. But she didn't want to look greedy or show her hunger. Jane's situation embarrassed her. She didn't like that Charlie knew some details about her personal life already.

"I don't drink alcohol."

Charlie had already placed Jane on a pedestal. But, he'd never let her know. This new tidbit made her ethereal to him.

"One hot chocolate," said Charlie.

The bartender placed the order in front of him. He took their drinks and walked with Jane toward an empty table. Setting the drinks down, he pulled out Jane's chair for her.

“I can—”

"We've been over this, Jane," he said. "I know you're more than capable of doing things yourself. Indulge me, this one time."

"You're so old-fashioned," she said, taking her seat.

"I will take that as a compliment."

"It was, sort of," she said.

Jane took a sip of her hot cocoa. The thick, rich liquid coated her tongue and flowed down her throat with a radiating warmth. Her palms shook as the sweetness kicked in. Flustered, she placed both hands around the mug to hide the trembling. Nothing got past Charlie.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked.

Jane shook her head. "No."

Charlie's eyebrows knit together as he watched Jane. The girl was almost skin and bones. What little flesh remained on her would soon waste away if she didn’t eat. He felt the urge for blood on his hands, to kill whoever had harmed her. The people that had hurt her would never see it coming.

"When was the last time you ate?"

Caught off guard, Jane said, "I took a bite of an apple last night or today. I, uh, can't remember."

"Then the hot chocolate will not be enough."

"I'll be fine."

In the short time he'd known her, she said I'll be fine or something similar several times. He didn't believe her. Charlie wasn't a pushy man, but she appeared emaciated. He couldn't stand by and watch this without intervening. The last proper meal she had made for herself was a packet of oatmeal. Maple brown sugar. And she had used water because it was all she owned.

"You confessed to me how bad your situation is while we were in the car. Now you're acting as if our conversation never happened," said Charlie. "Do you find me a fool, Jane?"

"No, I don't."

"Then why do you insist on telling me you're fine when you so clearly are not."

A flush crept across Jane’s cheeks as she looked down. Despite the layers of clothing she was wearing, she felt naked and on display. She didn’t need anyone’s help, least of all a man she had met yesterday.

“Look, I don’t want your pity.”

“I don’t pity you,” said Charlie. “I want to help you. Society failed you. I failed you.”

“What? How have you failed me?”

“I didn’t find you sooner.”

“Yes,” said Jane, “you said that earlier. What do you mean by that?”

“If I had found you earlier in your life, you would not be in your current situation. You would have found happiness and I would have taken care of you.”

“I’m twenty,” said Jane. “You can’t be over thirty. So, what you’re telling me is that you wish you’d found me when you were… what… ten years old? Something’s not adding up.”

Before Charlie could say anything, his eyes diverted toward a man. The man hunched over his two fingers of whiskey. He wore denim overalls and a long-sleeve beige shirt. Wire-rimmed eyeglasses adorned his face, along with a shaggy goatee that needed a trim. He combed his hair back in such a way it seemed he didn’t care about his appearance. Haphazard was the best way to describe him. He did not seem as sinister as Charlie. But, there was sadness behind his eyes.

Charlie looked at Jane. He said, "Wait here and don't talk to anybody."

Jane watched as Charlie approached the man. The man didn't look up. He didn't need to. He kept his eyes on his drink.

"I knew you were here the moment the song changed from Patsy to Deck the Halls. Was hoping you'd ignore me this time."

"You know I can never ignore you, Abe," said Charlie with a wry smile.

Abe gave a soft chuckle. "What did you bring here, Chuck?"

"A girl."

"And why did you bring her here of all places?"

"She's a strong creative,” said Charlie.

"So?"

"She's special."

"You mean like how the others were special?" Abe asked.

"They're old news. This one's different. Better even," said Charlie.

"What makes this one so special?"

“She’s pure, beautiful, compassionate, and stubborn. There’s a strength. A fire in her that the others never had,” Charlie mused.

Abe groaned. "What makes you think it'll work this time? Cause it worked so well before."

"Ye of little faith as the saying goes."

"Faith has nothing to do with it. You're not thinking straight," said Abe. "Let's face it Chuck, you're not offering the best deal to the poor girl.”

"How so?"

"You're delusional if you think any girl would want to become a mother to hundreds of children. Not to mention they've all got fangs." Abe said, "I may not understand women. I may even dislike them. But even I know you're not supposed to leave them alone for long. What is she going to do when you go on the road and leave her alone with the children?"

"She's perfect, Abe."

"Here we go again." Abe shook his head. "Why would she say yes?”

"Because she has no ties to this world. No family. No one cares where she ends up, and that is why she is perfect."

"Fine." Abe said, "She doesn't sound like much of a threat to you. What are you going to do if she says no?"

"If she says no," said Charlie, "then there will be a feast."

Abe sighed. "I knew that would be your answer. Here's a thought, how about leaving her alone if she doesn't want to go?"

"I can never do that."

"I know. I'd never expect you to act normal. So what, you want my blessing?"

"No," Charlie said.

Charlie turned his gaze back to Jane. Despite being waif-thin, there was a glow to her peaches and cream complexion. He watched as she blew the steam at her cup of hot cocoa. He wanted her. It was that simple. It was the kind of desire that brought a man to the brink of madness. He couldn’t stand the thought of her being away from him for a second longer.

“Then what do you want, Chuck?”

“I desire her.”

“Before you give me the ‘she’s perfect’ spiel, does she know you want to groom her for Christmasland?”

“In due time, my friend.”

“This is the first one you’ve brought to Parnassus.” Abe looked at Jane and back at Charlie. “She’s pretty, I’ll give you that. She’s not acting as scared as she should given the weirdos watching her. You being one of them.”

“She intrigues me,” said Charlie.

Abe scoffed. “Before you get in too deep, you’ve got to ask yourself if this is all worth it. Forget the girl and keep to your driving. Women are a distraction.”

“I can’t let her go,” said Charlie. “If she’s the one—”

“How long have you known her?”

“One day.”

“Holy shit, Chuck.” Abe rubbed his face with his hands. “You crazy son of a whore.”

Charlie smirked, “I could say the same about you.”

“I can’t convince you otherwise. Did you ever think she deserved better in life than meeting you?”

“I had better get back to my woman,” said Charlie.

“Does she know she’s your woman?”

“Not yet,” said Charlie, “but she’ll soon find out.”

Jane lowered her gaze, keeping her eyes on her hot chocolate. Why did he leave her alone at the table to talk to the man in overalls? She had a mind to leave. Yet, she didn’t want to walk alone on the night road without knowing how to leave the inscape and how to get back home. Loathe to admit, but she needed Charlie for that.

Charlie sat down in front of her. "I am sorry to have left you alone. I had business to discuss with a colleague."

"And you didn't think of inviting me to sit with you two?" Jane said, "You had me come with you to this frightening bar and you left me alone to go talk to someone else. If I didn't know how to get back home, I'd have left."

"I am sorry."

"You brought me here to discuss strong creatives. So tell me about this. Talk to me about what I am instead of leaving me surrounded by leering strangers."

Charlie took a quick glance around and saw some were watching Jane as if she was on the menu. He glared, and they all looked away, afraid of his wrath.

"If you're not going to give me some advice, I'll go by myself," she said. "Are the others here willing to educate me?"

"Yes, but the others won't be as gentle with you as I am."

"Okay, fine." Jane said, "What happened to me last night? Why did I pass out?"

"I sensed you. A new inscape called The Atlas of Lost Dreams appeared on my map."

"The Atlas of Lost Dreams?" Jane whispered, "My atlas must have something to do with it."

Jane opened her messenger bag and pulled out an atlas. "This is my atlas. When I ended up in the desert, I was looking at the Sahara Desert page."

Charlie moved closer to Jane and looked down at her atlas. "So, this is your inscape?"

Jane took in a shuddering breath, mindful of how close he was to her. She could feel his stubble scratch her cheek. Distracted thoughts entered her mind like how would it feel to kiss him. She shut her eyes and snapped out of it. No, there were more important things than a debonair man sitting right next to her.

"So," she whispered, "that's my atlas."

"And," he said, "what were you holding or using when you ended up in the desert?"

"I don't know." Jane shrugged. "I was wearing clothes."

"No," said Charlie. "Anything else you were wearing or using?"

"I don’t know. My hands?" Jane said, "I was wearing my reading glasses."

"That's it." Charlie said, "Your eyeglasses. That is your knife."

“Why did I faint right after?”

“What the power gives, the power takes away.” Charlie sent Jane a thin smile. “Some develop a stutter, others get migraines, perhaps you faint.”

"It wasn't just fainting." Jane said, "It was full-blown trembling with breathing problems. I thought my heart was going to stop."

"It would seem your take-away isn't fainting after all."

"What is it?"

"What you experienced was a panic attack," said Charlie.

"Oh," said Jane. "What do I do with this power?"

"That, Jane," said Charlie, "is up to you."

"I'll use it to help the disenfranchised."

Jane took a sip of her hot cocoa. Charlie was still sitting close to her and she didn't think he was going to move. He smelled like a mixture of peppermint sticks, citrus, cinnamon, and spruce trees. It was intoxicating.

"I can't sit by and not use this power to help people." She said this more to herself than to Charlie.

Charlie could not imagine a more pure being than the one sitting in front of him. Her only flaws were restlessness and her stubborn nature. Manx figured he could change her, make her more submissive. He'd make her fall so hard that she'd never leave his side.


End file.
